


coping mechanisms

by spectreleaders (SilverSie)



Series: Kanera Week 2020 [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Alcohol & Alcohol Cravings, References to Past Alcoholism, Support, depictions of ptsd, mentions of trauma, spoilery content warnings follow:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSie/pseuds/spectreleaders
Summary: On Seelos, Kanan thinks about the past more than he would like. He reaches out.Healing is not linear, and ghosts can be found everywhere.for Kanera Week 2020Day 3: show of support
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Series: Kanera Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906114
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: Kanera Week 2020





	coping mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly different take on The Lost Commanders. Apologies to Captain Rex.  
> (also takes place in my personal slightly-canon-divergent verse, but you can only tell if you squint)

Kanan _hates_ Seelos.

Not just because it is hot, or dry, or because the air itself tastes like salt every time he opens his mouth or breathes in, the particles stinging his lungs. Not even just because the salt plains reflect the sunlight white-hot and blinding, making him envious of Sabine’s protective helmet.

Kanan hates Seelos—predictably—because of what they find there, and the none-too-pleasant memories it digs up.

He should have known, should have been more wary in the beginning, knowing the planet’s reputation. He had heard plenty about the lawless world years past, back when he had immersed himself in the galactic underworld. About the type of people that hide away from the Empire, skulking about the shantytowns bordering the vast deserts and scurrying into the stone-and-scrap hideouts spanning the mountain crevasses.

Once upon a time this was actually a place he’d considered as a back-up plan, if he ever fell in bad with the Empire and needed a seedy corner of the galaxy to crawl into. Out here, most of the time the only thing to fear is a bounty hunter.

The perfect place for a couple of old clones, hiding from the very war they heralded so long ago.

It bothers him, the ease with which the others interact with the old soldiers—especially Ezra. But they don’t _know_. Ever since they found the ancient AT-TE and its inhabitants, Kanan can feel himself slipping back to that darker time, that darker place. It is _so easy_ to hear the blasterfire and see the flashes of green, to feel the scratches from running through brush, and the exhaustion and the hunger. Those echoes in turn bring out something else in him—something he hadn’t felt in _years_ , an ugly and dark thing gnawing at his insides, so hollow that he could never smother or fill it no matter what he poured in. And it makes him _crave_. It makes him want something to _cope_.

As the day goes on he hates how jumpy he feels, how the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, how he can’t stop looking over his shoulder as he stands outside the tank’s cabin to get away from the past. He hates that it puts his senses on such high alert he can’t tell if it’s the Force warning him of actual _danger_ or just—

He sighs. Or just an emotional response.

This is the thought that finally makes him retreat to the _Phantom_ to meditate on it—in a familiar space, a piece of home that can bring him a modicum of peace and safety. At least the oppressive heat and blinding light of Seelos gives him a good reason to hide away in the shuttle.

Not that Kanan is hiding. At all.

As he sits in the pilot’s seat and begins to sort through his thoughts, he knows that he is _better_ now than he was then. That he is open to the Force and through it, he is more open to confronting his past and his fears, more open to _letting go_. He parses and processes his thoughts piece by piece; it is not perfect and it is not an instant cure, but it helps to calm his senses so he feels less like he is on the verge of panic. Enough to get through their business on Seelos, at least. The rest can be examined later.

When he next opens his eyes, he finds that the setting sun has washed the world in orange, softening the landscape. Even after meditating, he knows he won’t be able to sleep if they have to stay through the night. Not here. He may be marginally calmer—but it haunts him and he is still left with the more base, physical craving that he can’t meditate away.

Kanan wishes he were back on the _Ghost_. He knows he is better, but moreover he knows that he has people to support him. He has Hera. Even in the presence of ghosts and terrors from his past, he might be able to catch _some_ sleep if she were close.

But he would have to settle for the next best thing, and his thumb activates the _Phantom_ ’s holoprojector to automatically call home.

It only takes her a few interspersed beeps to pick up.

“Kanan?” she greets, her tone light and inquiring. If there was a development that was strictly mission-relevant, he would have simply called over their comms. It’s easy to tell that there’s something else he wants to talk about.

That he wants to _see_ her.

When she activates her end of the holo and her image flickers to life, he can tell she’s using the portable holoprojector, has brought it down to where she’s tucked away under the _Ghost’_ s console and is fiddling with the navicomputer. She’s practically laying all the way back, looking up at the wiring, and he knows her feet must be dangling into the frontal turret compartment below. He wishes his mind wasn’t so preoccupied with darker thoughts so he could appreciate the sight more, but it makes his heart fond nonetheless.

“Hey,” he greets in return.

“Hi,” she smiles in his direction, and that must mean that repairs to the _Ghost_ are going relatively well. “So you’ve had some luck?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he can’t bring himself to say it with much intonation. “We found them.”

Hera can hear it in his voice; he can tell by the way her smile smooths out while she works, and he almost hates himself for it. Talking about this will be difficult for him─but she’s good at filling in his empty spaces. “And?”

“They’re clones. The old captain Ahsoka served with, and two others.”

Her eyes snap back to his at that news. “I see. That’s a surprise, but I guess we should have figured as much.” She paused. “Are you okay?”

Kanan hesitates. She wants honesty, and being vulnerable right now is _difficult_ , in this situation, in these surroundings, with _those people_ 30 feet away from the _Phantom_ ’s doorway.

“Getting there,” he replies simply.

Hera chews on her lip for a few moments, messing with something above her head. She starts tentatively, “That amount of combat experience _would_ be a great benefit.”

The thought of even _one_ clone in the _Phantom_ , in the _Ghost_ ─ _in their home─_ raises his hackles again. “He’s not coming back with us. He said himself that he’s tired of fighting.”

The look she gives him is gentle but imploring. “That sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

He can only make a wordless noise, at that.

She presses again. “Ahsoka clearly places a lot of trust in him─that certainly counts for something. She _said_ to trust him.”

“Still wish she would have given me _some_ warning.” He feels petulant saying it, but Ahsoka of all people would _understand_. She _should_ have.

She gives him the _look_ again. “Would you have gone if you knew?”

He can be honest about that. “No.”

The curt and morose answer brings a smile back, and Hera sits up, scooting backwards so that she isn't tucked underneath the console anymore, and she brings him with her. He can hear her closing panels and pressing a few buttons presumably to run stress tests. Afterwards, she faces him fully, legs crossed beneath her. “Kanan, even if something were to happen between you─and it won’t─you _know_ that you’ll be okay. You can take care of yourself, _and_ so can the kids. We’ve all had to before. And what happened back then…” She shakes her head, lekku swinging about her shoulders, “ _I_ know as well as you do that it was against their will.”

Kanan doesn’t think he’s ready to verbally dive that deep into the past right here, right now, but he appreciates her being vague. “That’s what they say.”

And there was that same imploring look again─”Clones and Jedi worked together before to save _countless_ lives, including mine. Remember?”

His expression softens. “I remember.”

Through the blue filter of the holo, the green of her eyes still beseeches him. He’s arrested by it. “Do you think you can work together again?”

He sounds defeated when he responds. “I’ll try.” For her, he can─and even if he does have to work alongside the clone, he’ll reserve judgement. Even if everyone else welcomes him with open arms, Kanan can keep an eye on him to make sure no harm would come to the family.

“That’s all you need to do, love.” Hera pulls a datapad off the console and into her lap, pulling up the results of her testing. “But that’s not the only thing on your mind.”

At this, Kanan sighs, leans back in his seat. He doesn’t know if this would be easier or worse, but he can’t even look at the holoprojector now. “I feel like I need a drink.”

The sound of her tapping stops. “Oh.”

He doesn’t have to see her to know the expression on her face─the sympathy, the lack of judgement. “Yeah. It’s been over four years since I’ve had _that_ particular urge,” he bites out, bitter as the substance he finds himself craving.

There are a few quiet moments before Hera speaks again. “Kanan.” Her tone asks him to look at her, and he does. All of her attention is on him again, work left forgotten. “You’re in a better place now.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Keep that in mind. You’ve come _so far_ ,” at this she gives him a reassuring smile, “and you know it’ll pass.”

He sighs again. She’s right, and it’s reassuring. He just needs to finish their business on Seelos as quickly as possible and get back home, to the present, to safety and familiarity. He can deal with darkness for a day. “It will.”

“Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

He knows what would. “A distraction would be great.”

Her smile is congenial and heartfelt, her tone bordering on playful. “I guess we’ll see how good our luck is after you get back, but in that case I should get to these repairs.”

The corner of his own mouth lifts at that, but the line of thought brings him back to his situation at hand. His boot scuffs on the metal floor. “Hide the alcohol before we head your way, will you?” He’s had plenty of drinks over the past six years since his dark days─casual one-offs and the occasional day-drinking with Hera─but if he had one now, he’s not sure when or if he would stop.

And Hera believes he wouldn’t give in─he knows she does─but she agrees anyway. “I will. Hang in there, love.”

“Yeah. We’ll comm you soon. Good luck.”

They both end the call, and Kanan stays there for only a few moments more before leaving the _Phantom_ to once again face the world outside of the small one he shares with her.

* * *

By the end of the next day, when they’ve escaped the Empire and the planet (but not his past, since the clone captain Rex decided to accompany them after all), Kanan feels like he needs a drink more than ever after all of the events that transpired. Especially with the presence encroaching on their ship, intruding in the space they carved out for themselves. He knows Hera will attempt to persuade him to get along, to _play nice_ , but for now she lets it slide. She stays with him that night, lets him get lost in the distraction they allow themselves.

She is there for him to collapse against in exhaustion when he finally feels enough like himself to sleep, and she is there a mere few hours later when he wakes terrified, drenched in a cold sweat. She is there to calm him before he can reach for his saber.

She is there to hold him while he shakes, to lull him back to sleep with fingers through his hair and soft words dissolving into softer, sleepy humming. And Kanan’s last thought before slipping back into slumber with his face pressed against her neck isn’t of ghosts or blasterfire or a decade of darkness. Only that he didn’t know what he would do without her. What kind of an early grave he would have dug himself into if he had never known her.

He doesn’t like to consider it. But he knows she will still be there in the morning.


End file.
